The Last Night
by Nefertiri's Handmaiden
Summary: The Final Battle. Harry's powers have become stronger than anyone ever predicted. Dumbledore's Army follows him into Voldemort's lair, and they end up sacrificing more than they had expected.


The Last Night  
  
Nefertiri's Handmaiden  
  
Disclaimer: Don't try to force and copy write infringement lawsuits on me, because I know I don't own Harry Potter. And now, so do you.  
  
Note: My version of some of the Final Battle. Really angsty, and a lot of you may not like the ending. However, that's the way I wrote it, so you'll have to live with it.  
  
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The End.  
  
The Final Battle between good and evil.  
  
The Last Night for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.  
  
Harry had known this night would come. He had longed for it; the night after which he could be free.  
  
He, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army had found Voldemort's lair. They had walked, knowingly, willingly, straight into his clutches. Harry had sworn to himself that tonight would end it. He would not allow Voldemort to take another life.  
  
He quickly surveyed the scene around him. Seamus and Dean were fighting off two of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Ernie was locked in a battle with Crabbe Sr., and Hermione was fighting Goyle Sr.. Ron, looking slightly pale but determined, stood exchanging curses with none other than Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Neville struggled to gain revenge in a battle with Bellatrix Lestrange, and looked close to winning. Harry cheered him on silently. Suddenly, Bellatrix fell, and Neville looked on in righteous triumph. Then he turned to another advancing Death Eater.  
  
Harry, himself, fought with a Death Eater whose name he did not know, easily beating him, biding his time, waiting patiently for Lord Voldemort to appear. He knew the Dark Lord would appear soon, making his usual flamboyant and dramatic entrance.  
  
He nearly had the Nameless Death Eater. The pathetic excuse for a wizard was no match for what Harry's powers had developed into. Harry threw a final curse at him, and the Death Eater met his maker.  
  
Harry turned to assist Ron in the defeat of Malfoy. Just as he spun around, however, Malfoy shouted words that made Harry's blood run cold.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
There was a blinding flash of green light, and Ron slumped to the floor. Harry yelled, praying that somehow Ron would get to his feet and continue the fight.  
  
Ron didn't move.  
  
Hermione glanced over and gave a shriek. She threw a curse at Goyle, and he fell. She streaked to where Ron lay motionless on the floor and dropped to her knees beside him.  
  
Malfoy raised his wand to administer the curse again. Hermione looked straight up at him, and met his eyes. "You monster," she spat out, her words dripping poison and ice.  
  
The malice in her voice made Malfoy pause, only for a moment.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
  
It was Harry's voice, however, that shouted the curse. Malfoy was dead before he hit the ground. Harry spat on him as he ran past to Ron's side. He, too, dropped to his knees, and felt Ron's neck, hoping against hope that there would be life pulsing through him. There was nothing.  
  
Harry looked into Hermione's eyes, and saw the tears there. Hermione let out a sob and threw herself over Ron's body, clutching at him wildly.  
  
"No," she said over and over again between tears. "No, no, no."  
  
Harry, however, stood calmly and walked toward a door at the far end of the room. Around him, the battle raged.  
  
Suddenly, there was a violent concussion through the air. The room and all its occupants shook, and the Death Eaters fell to the floor, dead. Dumbledore's Army turned as one to Harry. A power radiated from him, and they knew he had caused the Death Eater's end.  
  
Harry knew nothing of this. All he knew was that he was angrier than he'd ever been before. Ron was dead, and in the end, Voldemort was to blame.  
  
The door flew open, and Harry heard a voice from within.  
  
"Potter," the voice Harry knew to be Voldemort's hissed. "It is time. Say goodnight, Potter."  
  
Harry said nothing. He entered the room, and the door shut behind him. Voldemort stood, sneering, at the other end of the room. Slowly, Harry began to speak.  
  
"You've killed my parents, my Godfather, and now my brother. It's my turn."  
  
Voldemort laughed high and cold. Both men raised their wands, and the end began.  
  
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Outside the room, the rest of the Army turned and sprinted back to the Portkey that had brought them here. Only Hermione and Ron's corpse didn't move. Neville turned back to her. "Hermione," he called. "We've got to go, like Harry told us. We have to get out."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I won't leave Harry," she called back. "I won't leave Ron."  
  
Neville started to come back for her, but she stopped him with another shout. "No, Neville. Get out. We'll see you later. Get the rest of the Army back to Hogwarts safely. It's your responsibility now."  
  
For a moment Neville hesitated. Then he nodded, and sprinted down the corridor to the Portkey. "Keep going," Hermione heard him shout at the others. "Back to Hogwarts. Let's get out of here." Then they were gone, and there was only silence and Hermione's tears.  
  
She had no idea how long she sat there, Ron's head in her lap and one on his hands in hers. It could have been minutes, hours, days. She felt Ron's body stiffen, and his hand go cold. Still, she refused to let go. She would not leave the man she loved alone.  
  
The man she loved. For a long time, she hadn't realized it. And when she had, she'd tried to brush it off as a school girl crush. But the longer she'd denied her feelings, the stronger they'd become. Soon, she couldn't deny it any more. She loved Ron Weasley, and that was that.  
  
The night before tonight, when Harry had told them his plan and they'd insisted that they come with him, Hermione decided she would not walk blindly into death without telling him. He deserved that much, and so did she.  
  
When she's told him, looking at her feet and muttering, he's only stared at her a moment, lifted her face to his, and kissed her. When he'd pulled away, he'd whispered that he loved her too, and then left.  
  
Now, Hermione touched one hand to her lips, remembering the feel off his kiss. A kiss she'd never have again.  
  
Silently, she sat there; sound escaping her only as sobs and gasps.  
  
Eventually, the door to the room opened slightly, and Hermione held her breath. If Voldemort appeared, she was dead. If Harry appeared, they were saved. She prayed that Ron's death would not be in vain. She prayed that at least one of her best friends was still alive.  
  
The door opened further, and a battered, messy-haired, drained looking Harry Potter appeared. Blood flowed freely from several wounds on various parts of his body. Hermione pulled herself from Ron and flung herself into Harry's arms.  
  
He hugged her back only for a moment, and then pushed her gently away. Purposefully, he strode to where Ron lay lifeless on the floor. Harry fell hardly to his knees next to Ron, and Hermione flinched.  
  
He placed one hand on Ron's forehead, and the other on Ron's chest. Then he closed his eyes, and there was another concussion in the air. It was different from before: lighter, perhaps, was the word to describe it.  
  
Harry rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled back toward the wall.  
  
"Harry?" she questioned. Then she heard something from where Ron lay: it sounded like a gasp. She whipped her head in his directed, and nearly fainted.  
  
Ron's eyes were open, and full of life. Weak life, perhaps, but life. He gasped again, and Hermione rushed to his side, dropped to her knees, and took his hand in hers. It was warm. Ron gasped a final time, and then began to breathe normally.  
  
"Ron?" she whispered. "Ron?"  
  
He moved his head, and his eyes, his blue, beautiful, gloriously alive eyes met hers. "Hermione." His voice was weak, but it was his. Hermione's tears slipped from her face onto his chest. He lifted a hand, slowly, and wiped them away. It only made her cry harder.  
  
"Ssh." he said. "It's alright. I'm alive. Somehow, I'm alive."  
  
"Ron, what-?" Hermione started.  
  
He cut her off. "I was dead. I was. . . somewhere. Harry's parents were there, and Sirius. They made me wait. They told me that it wasn't the end, yet. So I waited, and then, suddenly, I was here again. I was alive." Ron smiled slightly.  
  
Hermione cried even harder and threw herself into his waiting arms. After a moment, she pulled away, and Ron slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Suddenly, there was a cough from behind them.  
  
It was Harry. Hermione had forgotten about him when Ron had gasped. They turned, and saw Harry up against the wall, breathing shallowly. Hermione scrambled over to him, and Ron managed to follow her. They each took one of Harry's hands. He coughed again, and Hermione knew he wouldn't last much longer.  
  
"Stay here with him, Ron," she said quickly. "I'll go get help." She tried to get up, but Harry gripped her hand more tightly.  
  
"No," he choked. "It's alright, Hermione. I'm ready."  
  
"No," she whispered, fresh tears forming.  
  
"I've done what I needed to do. It's over now. I want to see my parents and Sirius again," Harry said tiredly, looking much older than seventeen. "There's nothing left for me here."  
  
"What about us?" Hermione asked.  
  
"You have each other," Harry said in a surprisingly strong voice. Then he looked to Ron. "Take care of her, Ron. Take care of yourself."  
  
Ron's eyes were filled with unshed tears. "Harry, we-"  
  
"Live your life. Get married and have lots of red-haired, brilliant babies. Name one after me," he added with a smile.  
  
The water in Ron's eyes started to spill over onto his face. He nodded silently.  
  
Hermione looked at Harry, then at Ron, then at Harry again. "Harry, how did you-?"  
  
"Bring Ron back? That's a surprisingly simple question. I transferred my life-force to him. There will always be a little of me with him." Harry glanced at Ron's right wrist, and Hermione and Ron followed his eyes.  
  
On the inside of Ron's wrist, there was a small scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. They all smiled slightly. Harry coughed again, and Hermione and Ron looked at him, knowing that it wouldn't be long until he let go.  
  
"Tell Dumbledore I finished it," Harry said. "Tell him that it's over, and all he has to deal with are the remaining Death Eaters. Tell Hagrid that I said he's been a wonderful friend, and I couldn't have done it without him. Ron, tell you parents I thank them, for being so kind to me; for letting me be one of their children. And the Dursley's. . . tell them I wish it could have been better between us, and that I hope they all have long and happy lives." Harry gave a weak chuckle. "Even Dudley."  
  
Hermione nodded, tears streaming down her face. "We will. We promise."  
  
"I know," said Harry softly. "And you guys. . . thanks. For everything. For the help you've given me. Thanks for always being there." All three were crying openly now. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got you guys into this. We were too young to have to deal with all this."  
  
"It's alright, Harry," Hermione said through sobs.  
  
"We wouldn't have traded it for anything," said Ron. "We wouldn't have changed a thing."  
  
Harry smiled. His eyes closed, and the movement of his chest slowed.  
  
In a dark room, holding Ron and Hermione's hands, with a smile upon his lips, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, breathed his last.  
  
Hermione's sobs worsened, and Ron took her in his arms, and they cried together as their best friend smiled at his family in the Beyond.  
  
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Seventeen years later, Hermione and Ron piled their six children, all with flaming hair, into an old bewitched Chevrolet, and headed off.  
  
Their twins, Remus and Sirius, the result of Hermione's second pregnancy and who much resembled Fred and George, joked with each other quietly. After the twins had come Molly, who's skills as a Keeper rivaled her father's, and Arthur, who loved to read as much as his mother. Their youngest daughter, Lily, fussed with her stockings, and their eldest, a son named Harry James, helped her fix them without complaint.  
  
They stopped at a small cemetery not far from the Burrow. All eight exited the car in respectful silence, even Lily. Ron and Hermione led their family to a group of people surrounding the simple gravestone they had chosen for Harry. It read:  
  
**Harry James Potter  
Born to a fate he didn't want, and a death that came to early.  
Rest in Peace.**  
  
Among those gathered was Professor Lupin, whom Hermione and Ron now addressed as Remus, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, the other Weasleys, Neville, all the rest of their classmates from Hogwarts, and to everyone's surprise, the Dursleys.  
  
The group stood in silence for a long time. Then slowly, one by one, they walked away, until Ron, Hermione, and their children were left. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and Hermione nodded. She touched the headstone lightly and whispered a prayer. Then she began to usher the children back toward the car as Ron knelt and set his hand on the headstone.  
  
He smiled, glanced at the scar on his wrist, and patted the stone. "I'm glad you're happy now, Harry," he whispered. Then he stood and started to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back.  
  
"We got married, Harry. We had lots of red-haired, brilliant babies, and we named one after you." Then Ron turned away, and headed into the open arms of his family. Together, they walked back to the Chevrolet.  
  
Ron and Hermione both had the feeling that somewhere up in heaven, Harry was looking on with his parents and Sirius, and smiling down at them.  
  
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End file.
